


fall away

by Slice_of_Apple



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eren has a temporary personality change to sweetness, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Potions, Romance, Silly, Sweet, Tenderness, does not follow story line
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26880973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slice_of_Apple/pseuds/Slice_of_Apple
Summary: Eren can't master titan hardening. He takes drastic measures, with unexpected consequences. Jean reluctantly lends assistance.
Relationships: Jean Kirstein/Eren Yeager
Comments: 13
Kudos: 163





	fall away

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Restricted Work] by [tiggeryumyum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiggeryumyum/pseuds/tiggeryumyum). Log in to view. 



“Get out of my way, Kirstein.” Eren’s always angry, but lately he’s been more angry than usual. Things aren’t going well for him. He hasn’t figured out hardening, and they’re running out of time.

That doesn’t give him a right to bulldoze through Jean, though.

“ _You_ get out of _my_ way,” retorts Jean. Why is it okay for Eren to have hissy fits, and everyone tiptoes around him, because he’s a poor, miserable titan shifter, and Jean (and everyone else) has to suck it up and take it?

Jean twists his body. He doesn’t move much, just enough so that Eren will have to sidestep to avoid him.

Eren takes the bait. He’s clearly looking for a fight. His shoulder rams into Jean. Ooof. It has the force of a punch. But Jean is braced and ready. He holds steady, and Eren bounces backwards.

This has the intended effect of making Eren even angrier. He squares his shoulders and picks up speed. He’s almost running when he hits Jean again.

Jean tumbles to the ground, rolls, and springs lightly back to his feet. Eren has already marched past, he’s not even looking to see what happened. Jean lunges, grabbing Eren’s arm and swinging him around. Eren’s face is beet red and he is angry, angry, angry. Then they are at it, fists flying. It’s a solid thirty seconds of punching before Mikasa manages to kick Jean off.

“Yeah, yeah. Get your mother to save you. As always,” Jean puffs angrily, holding the side where the kick landed. Eren shoots him a look of death before angrily shaking Mikasa off and stomping away.

“Would you give it a rest?” It’s Reiner, frowning.

“Yeah, Jean. Don’t be a dick,” says Connie.

“Eren doesn’t need any extra stress,” Armin chimes in. 

Mikasa gives him a look so poisonous Jean’s not sure why he doesn’t shrivel up and die on the spot.

He stares at the ring of accusing faces.

“ _Me_?” he squawks. “Did you even _see_ what happened?”

No one’s expression changes.

Jean storms out. Why is it always Eren, Eren, goddamned fucking Eren, _all the time_?

Eren has a furtive look to him, which immediately puts Jean on the alert. He’s clearly up to no good. He’s hugging a jar of liquid to his chest, bringing it up every few seconds to examine it more closely. No one else is around.

“What is that?” asks Jean.

Eren jumps, nearly dropping the jar.

“None of your business,” he says, and he’s out the door.

Jean, stupidly, follows him. He wonders, not for the first time, why he can’t ever _let go_ where Eren is concerned.

“I know it’s not nothing,” he calls out. When he catches up with Eren, he takes a swipe at the jar.

“Get _away_ from me,” says Eren, dancing away. He has to mind the jar, though, which puts him at a disadvantage. 

“What is it?” asks Jean.

Eren looks at him, considering. Jean is surprised when he answers the question.

“Something Hange made.”

That brings Jean up short. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but certainly not that. And why did Eren even tell him?

Jean thinks for a moment, and then he’s got it. It’s because Eren himself is uncertain what he wants to do with it. He’s testing out possibilities by saying them out loud. What kind of something, from Hange no less, would leave Eren unsure as to what to do? Then it hits him.

“Are you _experimenting_ on yourself?” he asks, dumbfounded. Not even Eren would be that stupid, would he?

“It’s something Hange may try on me,” Eren says. He is defensive now. “To help with the hardening.”

“But only as a last resort,” Jean guesses.

Eren’s flush is confirmation.

“I bet it’s dangerous.” Another guess.

Eren shoots him a look, again confirming Jean’s suspicion.

“You reckless bastard!” Jean bursts out

“It’s none of your fucking business!” Eren snaps, and this time he seems to mean it. Eren has told Jean because he wanted to say it out loud in order to help himself sort it out, but he’s not asking for Jean’s opinion or permission. He spins, sweeping Jean’s legs out from under him, and takes off. Jean lets out a snarl of rage. Why is Eren always such a goddamned thorn in his side?

Cursing under his breath, he scrambles to his feet and follows.

When he catches up, he pants, “Don’t drink it, Eren!” Would Eren really be so foolhardy as to drink potentially dangerous drugs unsupervised?

“Leave me alone, Kirstein!” Eren yells. He looks desperate, almost unhinged. Maybe a desperate, unhinged Eren _would_ drink a sketchy, unknown substance created by a mad scientist. Maybe an Eren who has been pushed to the edge so far and so fast that he sees no way out except to take drastic, dangerous measures.

Jean feels an uncharacteristic twinge of guilt. Probably getting into an unnecessary fist fight with his best enemy only a few hours ago didn’t help, either. And maybe it also doesn’t help at all when that best enemy is telling him one thing, and he always makes sure to do the exact opposite, on principal.

Jean looks around wildly. Where the hell _is_ everyone? Can’t he dump this mess in someone else’s lap? Someone Eren would actually listen to? 

But no one else is around.

He tries again to grab the jar. This time Eren punches him. Jean doesn’t know if it’s on purpose or not (it probably is!), but he manages to hit the exact spot Mikasa kicked earlier. Jean’s face contorts with pain and rage.

Jean himself doesn’t know if he really means what he says next, or if he is indeed using some kind of subtle psychological manipulation, relying on Eren to do the opposite of what he suggests, when he growls, “OK, then. Drink it, you crazy fuck! Throw your life away. See if I care!”

Eren’s eyes glitter. In the blink of an eye, he unscrews the cap and rapidly downs the contents.

Jean stares, bug-eyed. He can’t believe it! But why is he so surprised, really? When has Eren _not_ been a thick-headed, crazy motherfucker?

He doesn’t have time to indulge in idle rumination, however, as Eren immediately slumps to the floor.

_Shit_! Is he _dead?!!_

By the time Jean runs over, Eren’s eyes are already blinking open. Not dead, then. Jean takes a deep breath, trying to stop his heart from flopping out of his chest. Eren lifts his head groggily.

Jean moves back a step so as not to get walloped yet again. 

“Eren?” he asks, cautiously.

Eren breaks into a smile.

“Jean!” he says happily.

Jean gapes at him. The smile broadens. It’s a little disconcerting.

“Are – are you all right?”

Eren ponders the question. “My head hurts a little. But I’m so happy to see you, Jean!” He continues to beam up at Jean.

Jean stares at him, befuddled. The only reason Eren has ever been happy to see Jean is when Eren’s about to beat the crap out of him. That’s not the vibe Jean is getting, but he takes another step backwards to be safe.

“I love seeing my friends,” says Eren. He seems to notice that Jean is moving away from him. “You _are_ my friend, aren't you, Jean?” 

“I – I guess so,” says Jean guardedly. But there’s such an earnest expression on Eren’s face that Jean can’t help but try to be a little more enthusiastic.

“Yes, Eren. I’m your friend. Can you – are you able to stand up?”

“Of course I can stand up, Jean,” says Eren. He scrambles to his feet. But he’s not quite up to the task and sways a bit once he’s upright.

Jean reaches out a hand to steady him. Eren clutches it, pulling Jean in even closer. Jean is slightly bent over and Eren tilts his head up to bestow a grateful smile upon him. Their heads are so close together that Jean can see little flecks of gold in Eren’s eyes. Jean blinks.

“Thanks,” says Eren breathily. “I’m kind of… wobbly.”

“Hold on as long as you need to,” says Jean. “Does anything else hurt?” There’s something about the way Eren is acting that inspires gentleness, and he finds himself speaking softly. Jean catches himself. How can he possibly be saying the words “Eren,” and “gentleness” in the same sentence, even in his mind? Has the world gone completely mad?

“I – I don’t think so,” says Eren. “Just unsteady. Thanks for helping me, Jean. You’re always such a big help.”

_What the heck?_

They start walking back towards the barracks, Jean’s mind spinning. What just happened? Something, that’s for sure. Eren is acting extremely weird. For one thing, he won’t let go of Jean’s arm. For another, he keeps turning and looking up at Jean with a grateful, pleased expression on his face. And what was all that “my friend” crap? _What was in that drink?_

Jean’s face sets into a gloomy frown. He doesn’t see any way out of this situation that does not involve pain for himself. He only hopes it doesn’t mean he will end up getting beaten into a pulpy mass by Mikasa and then dropped down a dark stairwell to rot to death. He definitely needs to get a better handle on the situation before they run into anyone else. Luckily, they are passing a storage room. Jean hastily drags Eren into it. This should give them some privacy.

“Why are we going in here?” Eren asks, not unreasonably.

“To – uh – clean. The Captain wanted us to clean this out, remember?”

Eren looks confused but allows Jean to lead him inside.

“So, uh, Eren, how are you feeling now?”

“Better, Jean.” Oh, good. Could it be wearing off already?

“See?” continues Eren. He lets go of Jean and stands on his own, much steadier than before. However, he tries to spin around and nearly falls. Jean grabs his arm, yanking him upright.

“Maybe not back to normal, though,” Eren says with a laugh. He is clutching on to Jean’s arm again and looking up at him with those huge eyes. Why the fuck is Jean’s stomach jumping all over the place? He’s torn away from thinking about this peculiar sensation by the sound of the door swinging open. Jean jumps in front of Eren, shielding him from view.

“Oh, hey, Jean.” It’s Connie, giving him a mildly curious glance. “Did you happen to see any extra gear straps in here? One of mine broke again, and I’m not allowed any new ones from the official supply because I’ve already broken so many.”

“No. Sorry, I haven’t,” Jean says in a clipped voice. “Last I saw, Armin had squirreled some away. You should ask him.” He’s hoping he can get Connie out of there before he notices Eren.

Eren, as is his wont, ruins Jean’s plan. He pops his head around and cries out delightedly, “Connie!”

“ _Eren_?” asks Connie. “Is that you?” He looks from Jean to Eren, and back again. Jean can literally see the wheels turning in his head. “What are you guys doing in here?”

“Eren and I are uh, cleaning, um, like the Captain asked us to do, earlier?” It comes out as a question.

Connie’s expression only grows more baffled.

“I’m here with my friend Jean,” says Eren, as if that explains everything.

“Your f-f-friend Jean?” splutters Connie.

“Yes,” says Eren, his smile growing even wider “My good friend Jean.” He picks up Jean’s hand, which has been hanging limply at Jean’s side, and squeezes it.

Connie’s jaw drops.

Jean wriggles his hand out from Eren’s. It takes a bit of work, as Eren is grasping it rather tightly.

“You’re my friend, too. Right Connie?” asks Eren.

“Yeah, um. Of course, Eren. I’m your friend.” Eren beams at him.

“Holy shit!” Connie mutters, ducking his head. Eren’s full-on, green-eyed, luminous smile is powerful stuff. Connie lifts up a hand to block out the unnerving sight of Eren smiling joyfully ( _joyfully!_ ), and asks, “What the hell is going on?”

Jean’s shoulders slump.

”I don’t know,” he answers weakly. 

Connie’s eyebrows shoot up quizzically.

“We were… fighting.”

He feels rather than sees Connie’s eyes roll, just as Eren asks, “We were _fighting_?” He frowns. “Are you _angry_ at me, Jean?” He looks terribly sad at the thought.

“No! No, Eren, I’m not angry at you,” Jean says hastily. Shit, are those _tears_ brimming in his eyes?

All of a sudden, Jean can’t stand Eren’s sad face or the thought of him crying. He reaches out a hand – it’s automatic, he doesn’t realize he’s doing it until it’s done – and pats Eren on the head. Eren makes an involuntary movement, tilting his head up into Jean’s hand, and his eyes flutter slightly. As if he _enjoys_ being patted. Jean whips his hand away. _What the actual fuck_?

Eren’s expression is still a touch mournful, however, and Jean feels an inexplicable need to soothe any sad feelings Eren might be having.

“We were – we were _play_ fighting, Eren.”

At his words, Eren’s face clears up. “Ah,” he says sagely. “Play fighting. Yes. We do a lot of that, don’t we, Jean? Because we’re such good friends?” His smile is now blinding.

Connie is overcome with a sudden, severe fit of coughing, which sounds suspiciously mirthful.

Jean finds that he, too, has a bizarre impulse to laugh; it’s the kind of inappropriate laughter that rises up at a funeral, or the sight of mutilated bodies: a nervous impulse protesting the utter, ridiculous impossibility of what is before him. Jean chokes it down.

“He – he drank something from Hange’s lab,” Jean explains. He doesn’t see the need to include all the details leading up to said drinking.

Eren, apparently, does.

“I wasn’t going to drink it,” he confides to Connie. “But then - ” A slightly puzzled look crosses his face. “But then _my friend Jean_ said I _should_ drink it. And – and I thought, if _Jean_ thinks it’s a good idea, then of course it is. So I did!” he ends triumphantly, obviously happy to have put all the pieces together in a way that fits.

Connie looks accusingly at Jean. Jean holds his hands up and protests weakly, “That’s – that’s not exactly how it happened.”

“You didn’t tell him to drink it?”

“Well… I did – I did say something along those lines, but – but I didn’t – I didn’t _mean_ for him to actually do it.”

Eren’s brow furrows again. “You didn’t, Jean?” He looks anxious now, as though he’s afraid that he’s disappointed Jean in some way. “Did I do something wrong?” Again, Jean feels compelled to alleviate any worries Eren might be having.

“No, Eren,” he says soothingly. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” Eren’s features smooth out in relief.

“It tasted horrible, though,” he adds, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

Despite himself, Jean can’t help but think it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen, Eren’s face all scrunched up. Even cuter than his sister’s fluffy baby kitten, before it grew up and hated Jean and scratched him whenever it could. 

He blinks and tries to focus. This is made difficult – impossible, even – with Eren standing right next to him, distracting him with his gorgeous eyes – what?! No! Not his gorgeous eyes! His annoying interruptions! That’s what’s keeping Jean from thinking clearly, Eren constantly interrupting him.

“Eren, I’m going to talk to Connie over there, in the corner. Can you wait here? I’ll be right back.”

“Of course, Jean. Where would I go without you?” he says, like that’s a preposterous idea.

Jean blushes and hopes Connie doesn’t notice.

Eren’s eyes light on a broom.

“I’ll sweep. That’s a good idea, isn’t it, Jean?” he asks, looking towards Jean for approval.

“Yeah. That’s a great idea. This floor definitely needs to be swept.” That smile again. Fuck! It’s starting to make Jean’s stomach hurt. He wrenches himself around as Eren picks up the broom and starts sweeping the floor enthusiastically.

Once they are huddled in the corner, Jean wishes it was someone else who had found them, someone with a bit more brains. But Connie it was, and it’s Connie who will have to do. Jean doesn’t dare involve anyone else in this escapade. Too much risk of word getting back to Hange, or – or the Captain, or even the _Commander._ Jean shudders at the thought.

“Do you think you can fix him?” asks Connie in a hushed voice.

“I don’t know,” says Jean, rubbing his eyes. He’s so confused. “I just don’t know. Please don’t tell anyone. If Mikasa finds out, she’ll kill me.”

Connie nods. That goes without saying.

“What are you going to do?” he asks.

Jean sighs a little at the fact that Connie didn’t say, “What are _we_ going to do?” It would have been nice to share this burden. But Connie has set down a clear boundary. This is most definitely Jean’s fault, and it’s up to him to fix it.

What if Eren is permanently altered? At this thought, an unexpected and strong wave of guilt washes over Jean. How could he have done something like this to such a sweet, innocent person? _Eren wasn’t so sweet and innocent an hour ago_ , a little voice in the back of his head reminds him. _He was his usual shitty self._ But then he tells the voice to shut the fuck up, because _this_ Eren is most definitely sweet and innocent and deserves to be back in his right mind. Even if his right mind is so odiously self-righteous and intolerable. _But didn’t Eren do this to himself?_ the voice has the temerity to ask. Yes, but Jean egged him on, and for that Jean deserves all the suffering he is currently experiencing, and then some.

With the guilt comes an equally strong wave of fear about what it would mean if Eren _was_ permanently changed. Maybe changed so much that he couldn’t even turn into a titan anymore. Jean shivers unhappily at that thought, and what it means to the Scouts, and to humanity, and to the likelihood of Jean surviving beyond the next 24 hours.

So Jean better fucking fix it, and right away. This brings up the third, and biggest, wave, brimming with terror. Because he has no clue _how_ to fix it. He feels small and helpless and panicked, crushed under the weight of the unyielding pressure and his own ignorance. He could go to Hange, but, to be honest, he thinks she probably wouldn’t even know herself how to fix this. These are _experiments_ , after all. Worse, who knows what torture she’d put Eren through in his current state? Hange is nothing if not ruthless in her quest for knowledge. And the thought of this sweet, open Eren being subjected to more of Hange’s crazy tests has Jean quivering in his boots. He most definitely does not want that to happen.

As he’s being flattened by the force of his various fears, he is surprised to find himself thinking that this must be similar to what Eren is experiencing with regard to hardening. That he has to fix something that he doesn’t understand, without any real teaching or guidance, and without the use of any specific tools. Yet he’s expected to somehow figure it all out. 

He glances over his shoulder. Eren is still vigorously sweeping, a small, happy smile on his face. He is even humming slightly. Jean sees Connie looking too. It is indeed a strange and wondrous sight to behold.

Connie’s next words turn out to be surprisingly helpful.

“Hange’s experiments usually wear off pretty quickly, don’t they? Maybe you just have to ride this one out.”

It’s a slacker solution, but perhaps it’s the right one. Almost certainly better than trying to feed Eren anymore of Hange’s junky concoctions. And it's not as if Jean can beat this nonsense out of him, either. That might have been the perfect solution for old, Asshole Eren, but Jean is most definitely not going to lay into _this_ Eren, with his fucking jolly mood and his adorable expressions.

And if by tomorrow Eren’s not back to normal, _then_ he can go to Hange. Tomorrow seems reassuringly far away. It’s as good a plan as any.

So all Jean really has to do right now is figure out how to secrete Eren away from prying eyes.

“We can practice on the ODM course,” Jean says, thinking as he talks. “They usually don’t mind if we do extra training. Could you tell everyone that Eren is letting off some steam at the training ground? Except Mikasa. And Armin. Don’t tell them. Maybe - maybe, don’t tell anyone. Just say that – that we got into a fight and Levi is making us clean up. That’ll be easy enough for them to believe. So they don’t come looking for us. Do you mind bringing some dinner, too?”

Jean knows it’s a lot. But Connie must see that things are desperate here.

Connie does see. It’s a testament to the gravity of the situation that he agrees to do all that Jean asks without arguing.

“I’ll sneak him back late, right when it’s time for bed. And hopefully he won’t talk to anyone else.”

Luckily, Eren has not forgotten how to use the ODM devices. In fact, he’s more relaxed than he usually is. They swoop in and around the trees, Eren laughing deliriously, like he’s having the time of his life. Jean has never seen him so free and at ease.

They take a break on one of the larger trees, a well-known resting place for the Scouts, pocked with old hook scars. 

“You’re so good with the ODM gear, Jean,” says Eren, out of the blue. His face is guileless; he is genuinely admiring Jean’s skill. He smiles again, that blinding smile, and Jean feels like he’s been sucker punched. He grunts and looks away, his face heating up. He doesn’t know how to respond.

Turns out he doesn’t have to. The silence stretches, but in a pleasant way. It’s quiet up here, in the trees. Peaceful. Contemplative.

Eren must be doing some contemplating himself, because he comes out with another zinger: “I’ve always admired you.”

Jean’s head snaps up. Eren _must_ be taking the piss, right? _Always admired_ Jean? Eren has _hated_ him from the very beginning! But Eren sounds sincere, looking off to the side, almost as though he’s talking to himself.

“You joined the Scouts even though you were scared stiff. Everyone could see how frightened you were. But you did it anyway. I think about that when I’m afraid. How you joined up, despite your fear.”

While this isn’t the compliment Jean would perhaps have liked to receive, when he’s had a minute to roll it around in his head, he realizes that it’s actually quite a mature thought. It even kind of makes sense. It certainly makes Jean think about himself in a different light than he usually does. 

And then the meaning sinks in.

“Are you afraid… a lot?” Jean can’t believe he’s asking this. But Eren looks serious, and he’s always thought of Eren as strong, but clearly he’s also vulnerable. While that vulnerability may only be showing up now, under the influence of whatever it was that he drank, Jean bets that it’s probably always there, hidden under Eren’s extravagant intensity.

Jean has a bewildering urge to pull Eren in, hold him, and maybe even do something crazy, like try to kiss away his fears. _What?!_ He is appalled by this impulse.

“Only when I think about things too much,” sighs Eren. Jean is so caught up in the absurdity of wanting to _kiss_ Eren that it takes him a minute to remember that Eren is talking about being afraid. “It’s much better if I don’t think.”

This stupidly mortifying statement sweeps aside all Jean’s thoughts about his own horrifying desires. How can Eren keep saying this shit with a straight face? If he wanted to, Jean could store this nugget of pure gold away and bring it out whenever he pleased, use it to knock Eren to his knees. But he knows with certainty that he’s never going to do that. 

Apparently, Eren’s not done contemplating, because he keeps on talking.

“Jean?” he asks softly, looking straight at Jean.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think I’ll be able to do it? The hardening?”

The question takes Jean by surprise. He’d thought that this Eren, with his bizarrely cheery disposition, had forgotten all about the thorny problem of hardening.

Clearly not. Eren is looking at Jean with intention. He wants a response. Either the effect of Hange’s experiment is wearing off, or this Eren has enough of Asshole Eren still in him to be preoccupied with this one, central worry.

“Armin and Mikasa say that I can, but they don’t know that. They’re just trying to make me feel better.”

Jean gulps. He understands that feeling all too well now. But Eren’s words show him that, although the intention is rooted in sympathy, it does Eren a disservice. He deserves honesty, in this of all things. He doesn’t need to be protected from the truth.

Eren is twirling a leaf in his hand. “I can’t seem to get it. No matter how hard I try. No matter how much it hurts. It doesn’t make any difference. I can’t do it.” The last is spoken in almost a whisper. There aren’t any tears, but there could be. It’s a teary moment. Eren doesn’t need to be shielded from reality, he doesn’t need empty platitudes, but he clearly could use some support.

“You know, Eren, I bet the solution to hardening will turn out to have a different shape than you expect. Something you haven’t even begun to think about. Maybe something that you can’t power your way through. Maybe,” – Jean is free-wheeling here – “you’ll have to slide into it sideways, from a different angle.”

He adds, more to himself, “It’s pretty tough on you, having to figure it out on your own, without much in the way of information or assistance.”

“Hange’s helping me.”

“Not really,” said Jean. “She doesn’t know any more than you do. The two of you are floundering around in the dark. And I think she actually makes you nervous, and the Captain, too, and that probably doesn’t help.”

““I don’t feel nervous up here,” says Eren. “With you. I feel calm.”

Jean’s breath catches in his throat. But he thinks he does a pretty good job of speaking anyway, just a little roughness when he starts.

“Maybe – next time – when you’re thinking about it, and you feel af – afraid, you could- you could find me? You and I could talk about exactly what you’ve tried, and maybe that will help you think of new ideas for your next attempt? You could even practice it in your mind. Before you’re a titan, I mean. I could – I could help walk you through it. If – if you think it might help.”

Eren frowns slightly, then says, “Yeah. I think that would be good.” A warmth zings through Jean, from his head to his toes. But Eren _still_ isn’t done dropping breezy, loaded statements.

“Thanks, Jean. You always say the right thing.”

Jean shakes his head. He clears his throat, ready to try to garble out some nonsense reply to this utterly ludicrous remark. But he’s saved from making an attempt at speech when he hears a “Hello?” from below. They lean over in unison. It’s Sasha.

“Is it true?” she whispers, once they’ve landed. Jean doesn’t have to answer.

“Sasha,” says Eren, running over and hugging her. Jean is surprised to feel a stab of jealousy. _He_ didn’t get a hug from Eren. It’s a nice, long one, too, with Eren’s head burrowing into Sasha’s neck.

Sasha frees herself and giggles.

“Where’s Connie?” asks Jean sternly.

“He got stuck washing up, but he swore me to secrecy. I promise I won’t tell.” She can’t keep her eyes off of Eren.

“You’re so cute!” she giggles again.

“I am?” he asks, and then he gives a tiny giggle back. Jean stares. He didn’t believe it was possible for Eren to be more adorable, and yet, there he is.

“And so… _cheerful_ ,” she adds, in awe.

“It’s because I’m with Jean,” Eren confides.

Sashsa shakes her head. “I didn’t believe it,” she mutters.

“Believe what?” asks Eren.

Sasha clears her throat and raises her voice.

“That you and Jean were such good friends,” she declares.

“Oh, but we _are,_ ” says Eren, all solemn candor. “The best of friends!” He grabs Sasha’s hand and holds it to his chest. “You’re my friend, too, Sasha.”

Jean can see that Sasha is wholly charmed. Well, of course she is. She got a long hug and now she gets to have her hand clasped to Eren’s chest. Jean is surprised by how annoying it is to watch this.

“Of course, Eren!” says Sasha. “I’m such a good friend that I brought you dinner.” She is so taken with this Eren that she doesn’t try to steal any of his food. She only sneaks things from Jean’s plate, then divides them up between herself and Eren.

When Jean wakes up the next morning, he immediately looks over to Eren’s bunk. He’s still squinting at it when Eren’s head emerges from his blankets.

“What are _you_ staring at, horseface?” Eren says, when he sees Jean looking at him.

Jean lets out a long breath. Whew. It _was_ only a matter of time, after all. He sends a quick prayer of thanks in Connie’s direction.

“Nothing, you cretin,” he answers, injecting as much venom into the words as he can. It’s not a lot, because he still has the memory of what he now secretly thinks of as _his_ Eren fresh in his mind. He’s got to work on that - best to get back to the way things used to be as soon as possible.

Eren must hear Jean's ambivalence, or perhaps he, too, is remembering the events of the day before. A confused expression crosses his face. He stares at Jean for a good ten seconds before his cheeks flame red and he looks away. 

Eren hunts Jean down after dinner. He stands too close – Eren has never understand the concept of personal space – but his eyes are on the ground, and his cheeks are glazed with pink. 

“Yeah?” asks Jean gruffly. His heart is flopping all over the place and he angrily tells it to fucking _stop_. The experiment is over. _His_ Eren is gone. Asshole Eren is back in his rightful place. Which is what Jean wanted, right?

“I’m here to tell you how it went, jackass,” growls Eren.

“Oh,” says Jean blankly. “Okay.” He reaches down next to his bed and pulls out his notebook, flipping to a page he had written out. Just in case. To help Humanity. Not because he wanted to help self-righteous, odious Eren or anything.

“What’s that?” asks Eren suspiciously.

“Something I put together,” says Jean casually, although he’s proud of it. It’s a simple table, labeling the date, the experiment, what happened, etc, but it feels very organized. Jean likes things to be organized.

They end up climbing up one of the trees on the outskirts of the barracks. They can’t get up too high without the ODM gear, but they’re high enough to have a modicum of both peace and privacy.

“So, what did you try today? You tell me, and I’ll write it down.”

Eren looks at him as though he’s expecting to be mocked, and Jean keeps his gaze clear and detached. It works. Eren’s shoulders drop slightly, and his guarded expression loosens. He doesn’t speak for a moment, but this time Jean can tell it’s because he’s thinking.

“I, um, I thought about what you said,” he says in a low voice. Jean doesn’t ask him to speak louder. “Instead of pushing harder, I tried to think about something else. Of smoothing something onto my knuckles.” He holds his hands out, as if to show Jean what he did. They look the same as they always have: thin, muscular fingers, dotted with callouses and small cuts.

“What happened?” Jean asks, in the same level voice.

“It went – better than before.”

“How?”

“Well, there was a very thin layer of hardening,” Eren says, and then goes on to describe what happened.

As Eren talks, Jean tries to pick out the key details he wants to put in the chart. He frowns and bites his lip. He didn’t leave enough space to get it all written down. He’s thinking that he probably needs to re-make the chart, with more room for each section, and that he’ll have to recopy it anyway, so Eren can read it better, when he realizes that Eren has stopped talking.

He looks up to find that Eren is staring at him. He doesn’t look angry, or as though he’s about to hit Jean, but his face holds that same level of intensity, just… in a different way. Jean can’t read it – it’s not anything he’s ever seen on Eren before, and that makes him uncomfortable. He assumes that Asshole Eren is making fun of him.

“It was a stupid idea, OK?” His old defensiveness has crept back into his voice. “I was only – trying to help. Forget it.” He slams the notebook shut and starts to rise.

Eren reaches up and shoves him back down.

“Sit down, you ass. It _is_ helping.”

“Ow!” says Jean. “Don’t fucking push me!” But he stays seated. And when he next opens his mouth, it is to ask, “What do you want to try tomorrow?”

They repeat this process, up in the tree, after each one of Eren's sessions with Hange.

Jean knows immediately, before Eren even opens his mouth.

“You did it,” he breathes, excitement tingling up his spine.

“Yeah,” Eren nods. Jean can tell he’s trying to tamp it down, but it’s springing up everywhere, little buoyant pulses of joy. “I did it.” A beat of silence. “ _We_ did it.” He gestures to himself and Jean.

“What the hell are you talking about?” says Jean, blushing nonetheless. “I didn’t do anything. It was all you. I only wrote it down for you.”

Eren snorts. He gives Jean an incredulous look before launching into a breathless description of how it went. His eyes are shining with excitement, and Jean can’t help but be reminded of _his_ Eren.

Through Jean’s wild, clanging joy – he’s astonished at how proud he is – runs a thread of disappointment. Now that Eren has mastered hardening, he won't need Jean anymore.

“Congratulations!” he says, trying to let only the pride and excitement filter through. “I knew even a moron like you would finally get it!” He closes the notebook and hands it to Eren.

“What’s this?”

“The notes,” says Jean. “For you to keep. Since we’re done.”

Eren’s face falls slightly. “Oh,” he says. He doesn’t say anything else.

“C’mon,” says Eren, grabbing at Jean’s shirt.

“What?” asks Jean, startled.

“Come with me,” says Eren.

“Why?” asks Jean.

“Just, come _on_ ,” says Eren, impatiently, not answering. And now he looks like he always does, like he’s going to start blowing steam out his ears if Jean doesn’t do what he wants _right away_. It makes Jean dig in his heels, because why should Eren always get his way?

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me why.”

Eren gives a long-suffering sigh. However, instead of getting angrier, his tone becomes coaxing.

“Get up, Jean. It’s a surprise. You’ll like it.”

That, however, doesn’t sound in the least bit promising. It’s been some time since the “experiment” incident, and, while he and Eren no longer meet to discuss hardening, they have had something of a truce since then, with almost no fighting. But Jean hasn’t forgotten that he was partly to blame for the unfortunate transformation, and he knows that Eren won’t have forgotten either. Yes, Jean helped him figure out the hardening, but that doesn’t erase Jean’s earlier actions, and Eren is sure to want to get back at him at some point – old habits die hard, after all. Jean is not interested in any “surprises.”

He hunkers down in his bunk.

“No way.”

“Jean,” says Eren, looking exasperated. “I promise. You’re going to like it.” But there is a teasing spark in his eyes that Jean absolutely does not trust.

“Yeah, right,” he says flatly, and crosses his arms.

“Jean, if you don’t fucking come _right now_ , I’m going to tell Captain Levi that it was you who ruined his favorite cravat in the wash.”

Jean’s eyes widen. “You wouldn’t dare,” he whispers.

“I would,” Eren smirks.

“You bastard.” But he nonetheless gets up. “Five minutes. That’s all you’re getting.”

“OK,” says Eren obligingly; Jean can tell that he’s not paying attention anymore, now that Jean’s moving where he wants him to.

They’re back at the tree. Eren nimbly swings up to their branch and Jean follows, a little slower.

Eren makes room so Jean can lean against the trunk.

Eren, as usual not so great at respecting personal space, sits right in front of him, his legs straddling the thick branch.

“Here?” asks Jean, his voice sarcastic.

“Shut up, Jean,” says Eren, but he sounds nervous now, less sure of himself. The wheedling confidence from a few minutes earlier is gone.

“Okay,” says Jean, not shutting up. “Where’s the surprise?”

Eren is right in front of his face. Their eyes are only inches apart. Jean is reminded forcibly of _his_ Eren, staring up at Jean with that earnest, beaming smile. But this Eren isn’t smiling. This Eren looks very serious.

“Here, Jean,” says Eren, in a low voice. He is blushing. Jean's heart starts to beat faster. “Right in front of you." Jean’s eyes widen then snap shut as Eren closes the distance between them. He trembles slightly at the feel of Eren’s lips on his. _Oh_.

Then Eren is scrabbling along the branch until they are flush together, and Jean feels Eren’s warm weight against him, Eren’s hand gripping his neck, Eren’s mouth pressed into his. He hears Eren's voice murmur, between kisses, "It's always" _kiss,_ "been" _kiss_ , "right" _kiss_ , "here" _kiss_ ,"in front of you." _Kiss._

Jean jerks his head back, his hands tight on Eren's waist.

“Really?” he asks breathlessly, not quite daring to believe it.

“Yes, really, you oblivious idiot!” says Eren, but his tone is affectionate, perhaps even tender.

Eren’s eyes are glowing. They’re definitely Eren’s eyes, full of wild, unbridled intensity, but in their depths is the same sweet luminosity from before. It’s probably been there all along. Jean just couldn’t see it. He’s glad he can see it now.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the fiction at the link above, which is such a lovely, tender, funny story; I had so much fun reading it that I ended up playing around with the idea. This is what happened. Not sure it works but maybe.


End file.
